The Blessed Hands
by kagebito
Summary: In the underbelly of a Republic City struggling to balance its powerful and weak citizens, the Equalists are rising. A young Equalist, Mako, must confront the paradoxes within his own life – his past with the Triads; his present with Amon; the love for his earthbending brother; his growing confusion about the girl Avatar – before they can unravel into violence and chaos.
1. City of Heroes

_Note: this speech is to be read in the voice of Steve Blum._

* * *

_0. City of Heroes_

The Universe, we know, is made up of a million sister worlds. Each is just like the next; and a thousand of these worlds clustered together is a galaxy. A thousand such galaxies makes up a middle cosmic system. The Universe is a thousand thousand cosmic systems, stretching into infinity, all of them stars glittering like the snow beneath the Northern auroras. Our world and its sisters sparkle close together like diamonds, floating in a night as thick and slow-moving as the glaciers of the tribal lands.

The thousand sister worlds are as momentary as the unfolding of cherry blossoms, and will repeat eternally the same wheel of rise and destruction over the aeons. But our world's birth describes every gasp of life that follows it. So let me tell you how our world was born.

From nothingness, a wind begins to blow. It carries memories of a dead world. It scours the filigree edges of the galaxy into sand, into desert, it churns the slow white water until it remembers riverbeds, and it summons back the sun. The galaxy trembles. The wind whirls into a hurricane, which spins at such a speed it can support the whole weight of the world. Upon it form the layers of hell, one above the other, where the demons live. Above that, our human world of earth and water. Above that range the heavens, where the gods reside, intertwined with the matter of the galaxy. The cycle of reincarnation has completed a rotation. The world now exists, and will, for several aeons.

Some say the spirit world is the star shining closest beside ours. Others say it is our core, carrying the memories of our world's last incarnation. Others again say the spirit world drifts in and out, like breath, as ungraspable for humans as our short lives are for the spirits. But we all know that the spirits, separate from gods and demons, are the soul of our world.

We know it is the spirits who gifted humans with the divine touch of the elements. Earth, air, water, fire: these have become the four cornerstones of the world. Each spirit has a natural affiliation with an element - like all the humans of this world used to.

To earth belong spirits such as the foxes, _naga_, face-eaters, blind touches, tree-dwellers, and the _heibao_.

Snake-spirits, seven-headed polar dogs, the hunters of the aurora, the painted gods, and the _kappa_ are some that belong to the realm of water.

Garuda harpies, the first herds, heavenly maidens, treehoppers, and winged colugo are some that belong to air.

To fire belong, among many: the night lights, spectral tigers, lacewing dragons, the shining dawn mist, and cursed Homusubi of the volcanoes.

In this young world, people would spring up as people forever do; kissed by earth and wind and snow and sun in different measures. Blessed by the elementals living nearest to them, their ancestors took on features of the elements.

Some bore directly the element of their favor; others were bound to the material plane and ask their shamans –the first benders– for guidance. They were one people. There was no separation between the shamans and their communities. The elemental benders held no lofty place over their non-bending kindred. They were the designated defenders of their world. For the largest part of our history, this sense of loyalty protected our nations and our families. This used to be our sense of security. Our benders were our protectors and our heroes. They were ours. They would never – _never_ – have turned on the non-benders.

So much has been lost.

The balance has been shifted, and we know why. Neither the great Earth Kingdom, nor the noble Water Tribes, nor the fierce Fire Nation, can any longer claim equal treatment of their non-bending folk. Of the remainder of the Air Nomads, I shall not speak. What can be said of an old man and a few children, but this? On that island, non-benders are their _servants_.

The hundred-year war, the genocide of the nomads, the wide-spread colonisation, the abrupt end of Ōzai; these things have shifted our world on its axis, bringing old enemies together but estranging brother from brother. That fabled Avatar Aang! He failed to prevent the war, and only ever managed to bring about a late peace in a weakened world before he died. Now his reincarnation is as mute and feeble as a newly-hatched ostrich horse, hiding her head in the snows of the South.

Aang could not do anything to lighten your load, and she will be no different! My fellows, search your feelings – you know this is the truth!

But – oh, my brothers and sisters, the spirits, too, have suffered under this chaos. They have observed our plight. They have considered what can be done to even out the imbalance. The spirits are among us, sublime as light. They no longer support the fourfold bender as the great protector of the world. Instead, now, they choose us.

You. The oppressed, the downtrodden. The spirits have blessed your work-worn hands. They have graced us with the knowledge to guide chi, the very breath of life–! They have brought to us men and women, innovators and leaders who will carry the movement together with you.

We now have the organisation; the technology; the sponsorship; the protection; the soldiers – all the resources needed to redress this injustice.

The truth of chi-blocking can only be passed on from teacher to pupil. Only from within our community, through our discipline and faith, will we change the world. _But change the world we shall_. Brought together are poor and rich, low and high; all the forsaken and the betrayed. We are no longer afraid. We will no longer carry the blame and tarnish of the sins of benders. We are no longer patient – the truth is there, in the steady coursing of our blood.

The truth is that injustice glares at us from every corner of the city. This city which was built once, for a dream of opportunity which never manifested; now it is packed to the brim, full of vermin.

Our politicians, our athletes, our police. Our dear _benders_. Our great _heroes_. They oppress us no less than the lawless, shameless Triads.

Benders must be punished. Benders will be punished. I know that their transgressions, tallied in your memory –tallied in ice, in fire, in stone– they can no longer be smudged out.

Let them burn us. Let them drown us. Let them stone us and smother us. We will not surrender. We will flit in and out of sight, insubstantial like sublime spirits. We will bear down the wrath of the spirits on them. The Avatar will be torn away from her undeserved pedestal and banished to the lowest layer of hell. When we are ready we will rupture their citadel of power; from its jade-roofed towers of prejudice to its rotting slums of oppression, in a fell storm we will reclaim the city that was built by us, for us.

With the force of retribution we will bring benders back down, back from being monsters; and scourge them into being humans of the four cornered world. This is your great task. You will learn to defend yourself. You will learn to subdue them. Most importantly, you will learn to think like a new community. You will be the citizens of a new world, a changed order. We will not return matters to the way they were, but to the way they were meant to be.

Join me, Sister! Join me, Brother! Here at the heart of your modern world, and raise your blessed hands to mine.

* * *

The real story starts in the next chapter. This prologue is just to get you in the right mindset. I will post the first chapter very, very soon..!


	2. End the Misery of the World

_End the Misery of the World_

1.  
The mist is dense enough to hide Republic City from its spires to its sewers, and it's like running blind through a cemetery. Never know when you're gonna trip on a stone and rouse the dead.

They need the mist. It's still so early there are nearly no Satomobiles about, but rather than take the road, they park their Satovan on the edge of the City and stick close to the buildings. Jutting street signs; deep potholes and filthy gutters; a bum, wailing, heartbroken. The wet air only hides the smell for the first breath.

Finally: they find the corner and turn it. The pressed-dirt ground of the alley muffles the sound of running. As soon as they burst through the door into a lightless, opium-stale antechamber, an old woman hobbles out squawking curses, skinny braid flailing. They down her in no time. She hits the floor screaming, skirts tangled in the _manriki_ – but right away pushes herself up to paw at them. They leap back as a roar of flame lights up the corners of the room.

Woo-bin reaches her like a shot, deflecting her scabby little hands and jabbing her, _da!-da!-da!_ in the _suibun_ point, beneath her ribs. Mako knows the pressure points; he knows from the look on her pinched face the moment she loses sensation in her right arm; left arm. The Triad will probably cut off both her pinkies because she let them get past here.

He doesn't wait for Woo-bin to release her. On the door in the back of the room, an embroidered _dào fú_ is still smoldering from the blaze. Mako grabs his knife and right through the character for happiness he carves: **平**. Then he kicks open the door.

2.  
One night at the roadhouse, when Mako is fifteen, a man named Amon comes to speak, and at first they all think he is either an actor or a religious fanatic, because of the mask. His voice is so careful, his motions so spare, that it is as though Amon knows everything that is to come and has merely slowed down in time to guide them, his followers, through the myriad intricacies of his elevated thoughts. He speaks articulately on the Spirit, the elements, the painful privilege of benders, the superfluous being the Avatar has become in this age. The group of listeners realizes he will not be taking off that mask. It is to shield his anonymity as much as it is to hide his suffering. A revolution flickers fast in the shadows of his eyes.

He speaks most poignantly of the chaos and the great ache that hold Republic City.

This city should never have existed, says one man. It was the best thing Aang ever did, says another.

It is what it is, says Amon, voice patient, but now we must not let it spiral out of control any longer.

3.

There is nothing more beautiful than the intervention of fingers precise as clockwork, damming the swirling paths of chi, stealing away the mystical sleight that is bending. Even if it is but temporary.

Temporary; for now, for now.

4.  
One of the first times Mako sees Amon, he watches him exercise his fearsome power on a firebending burglar. The wooden walls of the roadhouse reverberate with the men calling for the bender's punishment, but then Amon is upon him like a shadow cat, nimble hands twisting the burglar's arms behind his back. The roadhouse chills and falls silent as he forces the man to his knees: are they about to witness an execution?

But Amon lets go, and to everyone's surprise, the thief stops struggling. He remains kneeled before the room with a terrified look on his face. His shaking hands seem to fight gravity as they move to hide his red face. "I see your remorse," Amon's dry voice carries to the ears of all the men there and they all _listen_, "and I swear you shall be forgiven for your crimes."

The masked man raises an arm and gently, gently, brings down his fingers on the thief's forehead. Mako is reminded of the priestess blessing his mother, so many years ago now. Amon stays like that for only a moment; then steps back. The man gurgles and slumps forward like a corpse. The more superstitious workers in the roadhouse mutter or cry out. _What witchcraft has taken place here? Has it entered my soul through my eyes?_

Amon's man the Lieutenant steps forward to stand beside him. His dark voice penetrates the hearts of all the men there. "Amon has cleansed this sinner of firebending. The spirits have granted him this gift: to take away the bending of the unworthy."

The pickpocket on the floor rallies with a desperate groan, and when he attempts to firebend at Amon, the silence from his hands is like a gasp of the gods. That is the day of the first miracle, and the first time the men in the room feel like they might be part of a great instance of change in the world. They look each in the others' eyes and see a brother.

Each man felt the thief's anxiety echoed in his own gut. Each man could have been a thief. The way things are, a man shouldn't be punished for trying to feed himself. But benders, now. They could stand to be punished, for their bending.

5.  
The roadhouse never yields any visitors. It hunches in the shadow of the Future Industries metalworking factory. It is unassuming down to its mottled wooden rafters. It houses the factory workers who live too far to travel home. Mako has lived there since he was fifteen, sleeping with the other laborers in grotty, shuttered cells on third-hand pallets, and sharing a kitchen with roaches the size of rats and rats the size of buzzard wasps. The communal bath heats to rusty, lukewarm water in spring and fall; in summer, it is as tepid and dank as the air, the tiles covered by green film. In the winter the tanks freeze over, and nobody bathes. Rather go dirty than pay a Triad bender to thaw you out.

When they return in the Satovan, it is with five hostages chi-blocked to the point of paralysis and stuffed into burlap sacks. Several workers waiting for their shift come ambling out of the roadhouse, lazily watch the van pull up. Mako's mask and goggles are abandoned on the passenger seat as he moves to help them carry the sacks -ten in all, five of them full of pork haunches in case the police happen upon them. Woo-bin gives one of the twitching sacks a vicious little kick. "You bloody blister."

Mako smirks -something immensely satisfying about calling a firebender a blister. Having a firebender tied up and helpless as a smothered salamander is even better. The benders are brought into the common room and dragged out of their burlap kicking feebly. The chairs and tables have been cleared to one side in anticipation.

When Amon enters, everyone hushes. They are looking forward to the thrill of a cleansing. No one expects Amon to instruct them to put the benders in the cellar, with some water but no food. But that's how things go, with Amon. They cannot but follow.

"We congratulate our brothers on their victory today, and are pleased with their safe return." Is all Amon says after. The group of workers applauds Woo-bin and Mako like it's part of their job. "And we thank them for their contribution to the Revelation: which shall take place soon. We discuss the particulars tonight at supper."

Now the men are interested. There had been some whispers of a Revelation, some rumors to whet their thirst for a new, fair world. It won't be long now.

6.  
Mako is thinking of the old woman's howling as they drove the craggy road back. Woo-bin slammed down on the Satovan's breaks and all the bodies in the back thumped together, making the woman cry louder. Woo-bin turned and screamed, "Damn you, shut up! You filthy rat turd eater! I swear I will hurl you from the bridge if you do not stop wailing!"  
The woman's cries subsided. But Woo-bin was a cruel one, and he made sure they heard the Satovan driving onto the bridge before he stopped it and got out. How she did scream and beg then. Woo-bin grinned at Mako and renewed the chi-block for every pressure point for every hostage. Mako stared at him until he came back to the wheel and drove them the rest of the way. The damage a single firebender could do to the van was worth the vigilance.

7.  
"Mako. Let us speak in the _kamado_."

The problem with the mask is that Mako can never tell what Amon is looking at unless he is close enough to discern the eyes. That body that moves so economically never reveals any emotion.

He follows his leader and the Lieutenant into the kitchen, pondering his use of the old word _kamado_. Amon's way of speaking is older; his accent different from the men who grew up in Republic City.

In the kitchen is a simple wooden table with carved stools by it. The Lieutenant motions for Mako to sit; he does. Amon seems satisfied to stand straight-backed behind the Lieutenant, even though there are other stools, and listen while he speaks. The darkness in the corners of the kitchen seems to jitter; Mako knows better than to look closely.

"Mako, we are very pleased with what you have achieved today. It is nothing less than a victory for our cause."

Mako nods once, in acknowledgement.

"We are also pleased that your information was correct. Earlier you said you could find out the whereabouts of several other Triad leaders. Does this still stand?"

"Of course." Mako could probably weasel out the whereabouts of every Triad member in the City.

"Excellent. As you may suspect, we have been planning a public.. _appearance_, for some months now. We feel our message would be most powerful were it to include the most powerful benders from every Triad in Republic City. It is vital that upon capturing them we are able to subdue them until our great Revelation."

"Of course," Mako repeats, waiting. As long as they are guarded by alert chi-blockers at all times, keeping the mobsters from regaining their bending should be feasible. Amon and the Lieutenant already know this.

"This is only the first step, Mako. Can we rely on you all the way?"

"...have I done anything to suggest the contrary?" He is aware of Amon's moon-white face turned toward him, hovering like a spirit in the dark light.

The Lieutenant's pale gaze bores into Mako's. "We have planned this in stages, and our final stage will not take place for some time yet, you understand. But when it comes to it, we will take the Avatar, too."

He tries not to physically stiffen. _They knew, they knew all along_, his thoughts roar. How did he even think he was hiding it from them? He had been convinced that side of his life remained shielded. He had worked so hard.

Keep looking at them. Don't blink too much.

"I never assumed differently, sir," Mako says. Amon and the Lieutenant seem to be waiting for more of a response. He refuses to give it to them.

Amon cocks his head to one side; a theatrical motion because of the mask. "Do you know Avatar Korra well?"

"Not at all."Mako can answer honestly enough. "I have spoken to the Avatar very briefly, a handful of times. I could not enjoy spending time in her presence."

"But you do enjoy your brother's company?"

When Amon doesn't keep moving he looks suspended in time. Don't avert your eyes. "He is my brother. Sir."

"He is, in fact, an earthbender." Amon is staring at him through the mask. "You are an Equalist, Mako. The men and women of the Movement are your brothers and your sisters. This is why I speak to you here; the kitchen is the centre, the _kamado_ of our family. Here we mourn our lost soldiers. Here we celebrate our victors. The steel of our resolve is brandished here, in the embers of the hearth."

"Yes, sir."

"When we bring our Revolution, we need to know your priorities will be with your true family in the Movement, not your blood family members."

"Yes, sir."

"Can you promise us this loyalty, Mako? If he stood in your way getting to the Avatar, could you swear not to hesitate?"

He raises his eyes to them again. "He is my flesh and blood, and I swore to see to his needs when we were orphaned. But he belongs to the benders of the City. I take no responsibility for his cursed heritage."

"I shall remember your words," Amon says soberly.

Lieutenant shifts. "Mako, where is your mask?"

Hiding relief now, he blinks at them; his first reaction is to look around. "I took it off when we carried in the hostages-" he pauses. They watch him, patient. "I left it in the Satovan."

"In plain sight, for any stranger to see, son." The Lieutenant's voice is weighty and warm as a brocaded coat in summer.

Mako swallows. "I will be more careful in future."

"Some might misconstrue that as the action of a traitor."

Mako calmly, calmly lifts his eyes to meet the Lieutenant's. "I am no traitor." No inflection in his voice at all.

Amon rests his hand on the Lieutenant's shoulder. "Very well. Go fetch it from the van. Best to be more prudent from now on. Protecting the Movement is to be your foremost priority."

"Yes, sir."

"One last thing. Be ready to find the next Triads tonight and tomorrow. Stealth and speed are of the utmost importance in this matter, Mako."

Mako nods and leaves them in the kitchen, matter-of-factly jogs out to the van. He takes deep breaths. Woo-bin is just heading inside, Byeol beside him. They stop and Woo-bin pats him on the shoulder as he walks by. "Well done today, my brother."

"We were blessed by the spirits," responds Mako, and bows his head in greeting as his superior moves away. Byeol's shy grey eyes meet his and flutter away.

His mask rests on the bench that constitutes the passenger seat of the van, green lenses gleaming in the afternoon sun. He stuffs it in his jacket.

Behind him Byeol is still waiting. "Mako- I was thinking the kids need help for-" She stops when she sees his face.

I must be making a horrible face, he thinks, and shakes his head. "Not now. Let's talk another time."

Deep breaths. Collapses on his straw sleeping mat in the dank room he shares with five others. One man is sleeping, waiting for his night shift, the others are all out. Mako stares at the ceiling; he stares until he thinks he might be blind. They just issued him a warning.

They knew about Bo; all this time.

8.  
"I believe him quite loyal," the Lieutenant observes. "He is certainly not the only one with the bad luck of being born into a bending family."

"No," Amon agrees, tracing the wood grain as it flows and divides across the table. "He is not the only one. However his connection to the Avatar cannot be discounted; nor his love for his brother. Blood runs thick, my friend."

The Lieutenant waits. Amon's mask glints as he turns his face to the window. "A test, then, of Mako's loyalty."

"Indeed. True dedication shall weather any storm."

There is a distant shout of surprise from the common room; one of the electrical lamps has popped.

"I still believe our newfangled system could stand some tweaking, no matter what Hiroshi says." The Lieutenant jokes in a low voice. "No chance you feel like joining me to repair the generator?"

Amon's head tilts into the sunlight. "I feel blessed that I may leave the struggle of technology in your hands," His voice is warm, "they are more than capable."

His own hands cast long-fingered shadows on the table.

* * *

Notes:

_manriki_ - short form of _manrikigusari_, also known as _kusari-fundo_, which is the Japanese name for the length of chain with weights at both ends, used by the Equalists to disable their opponents. (on the Avatar Wiki this weapon is actually referred to as _bolas_, and while the shape may be more similar, there were no set rules as to how manriki should be made; therefore it seemed a logical choice to go with the Japanese terminology rather than _bolas_, which is Hispanic.)

水分 - Jp: _suibun_ pressure point located between the ribs and the navel. Press your little finger to your navel; where your bent middle finger rests is your _suibun_.

倒福 - Ch: _dào fú_ (upside-down happiness) sounds the same as 到福 _dào fú_ (the arrival of happiness). For Chinese New Year people hang up the character _fú_ upside-down to welcome happiness into their home.

平 - Ch: _Píng_ [_hei_ in Japanese] - level, flat, equal. As a verb: make the same score, suppress, put down.

blister - derogatory term for firebender.

rat turd - is a kind of tiny Thai chile pepper, known in Thai as Prik ki nu;

rat turd eater - derogatory term for firebender.

kamado - archaic Japanese word meaning stove, which is used to refer to the kitchen as the symbol of a house or household.

Notes: Disclaimer: all characters belong to Nickelodeon & Bryke's magnificent creation. This is my tribute to it. This is also a tribute to the cultures, myriad and wonderful, many of which (specifically East Asian cultures, and Inuit cultures) have been referenced in some way by the Avatar universe. I do not assume to be able to represent the splendor or sheer depth of the cultural heritages that make up the cultures in question, but if this meandering tale may serve as a stimulation to any of us to enter into a devoted pupilship of an aspect of any of these culture I feel it has served a good purpose. However, I must simultaneously warn that I am merely an imperfect acolyte, far from achieving any true knowledge of the great world. I can promise that I have done my best to research the cultural aspects represented in this tale; I cannot promise that I do them justice. Therefore any inadequacy should be considered a fault of mine. If you, my reader and fellow devotee, come upon an erroneous fact of any nature, please do not hesitate to alert me so that I may set right the grief and award the matter in question the respect it deserves. Furthermore a brief note is in order to inform you that yes, this is very much an Alternate Universe of the delectable Equalist!Mako nature. An author I admire in another domain of fanculture once used the expression "playing fast and loose" to describe her way of treating the existing characters; in my case, I have played fast and loose with the delightful characters of the Legend of Korra to mould them so they fit my needs entirely. My reader, you are welcome to comment as you see fit, but please think of this poor author with forgiveness in your kind heart always.


	3. Cross Light-footed the Water

_Cross Light-footed the Water_

* * *

_{Several weeks earlier.}_

1.

Water is in her bones like a moonlit dream, rippling blackly. It is the warmth of her parents. The ship of her escape cradles her, and all the water in the ocean calls its pleasure at meeting the Maiden Avatar, at last. Nearly twenty winters we cooled and thawed, without you.

Wild and powerful is Fire, though the sun is small and grey as a dust mote on most Southern days. Fire is the fickle friend who licks her laggard ankles. Fire is her pride.

Earth on the South Pole is far away, sleeping beneath the permafrost. She can taste it in the game she hunts; a knowledge of roots, the wealth of soil, gravity. In Republic City it hums to greet her. It is the pressed earth; the poured concrete; the kiln-baked bricks; the rough-hewn slate; the white sand in the temple's rock garden.

But Air, Air shimmers at her, just around the corner of the abandoned temples. She is almost two hundred years too late, to understand Air. Out of the corner of her eye the children of Tenzin are brightly arrayed ghosts, reflecting blood on arctic snow.

2.

And when she comes to Republic City a non-verbal part of her thinks, I will never learn to Airbend here. The smoggy sky ruins the sun; the Water is sluggish; the Earth interspersed with so much metal. The acrobatics of the metal-benders are breathtaking, but they do not move to any song Korra can hear. Their snakes coil around Naga. The first time the great untamed polar bear dog is muzzled, like a hurt bird with clipped wings, is the first time the Avatar's heart breaks in this lifetime.

It is not until Tenzin asks her to stay, his arrow faded in the ruddy twilight and whiskers bristling in his prim, frustrated manner, that she feels an ache unstick and a gravity rebalance. When he lets Naga sleep in her austere room, the crimson-and-ochre ghosts touch their feet to the floor.

3.

(I am not a traitor to the cause. But they cannot ask me not to love my brother.)

4.

"You _what_," had said Mako, struggling to maintain a look of disinterest.

"You heard me! The Fire Ferrets' official firebender is now-" Bolin struck a pose, one hand to the sky like the ringmaster- "the Avatar Herself!"

"By the knives of Mai- that is the worst idea I _ever_ heard-"

"Why!? She is SO GREAT. She is the best thing that could possibly happen to, and Mako, I list this in order of importance: the world, Republic City, pro-bending, the Fire Ferrets, and me. Me being the most important, obviously." Bo winked and flourished at his long-suffering brother.

Bolin's enthusiasm is admirable, thought Mako. And may get us killed in the near future. The City's non-benders were already grumbling about the useless young Avatar.

Mako sighed, crackly and dry as a sunbaked road. "Bo- she's the Avatar. Hasn't she got more important shit to do than compete in an amateur pro-bending team?"

Bolin pouted at his brother. "You think I didn't think of all this too? I asked Korra and-"

"You're asking some fangirl of yours for advice now?"

Bolin looked at him with a surprised smile. "What, no! That's the Avatar's name, bro! Avatar Korra!"

Mako blinked and nodded. "_Oh_. Right." But he didn't know what to think about learning the Avatar's name.

5.

Mako accepted long ago that staying honest to his own values would involve blunt lying whenever necessary. He lies constantly. His own brother whom he has raised from the age of six has been told a lie that digs deeper into the earth every day. It is for his own good. He isn't a bender but Bolin is.

When it comes to Bolin, Mako suffers a struggle. Sometimes, in a flash of envy, he cannot forgive his brother's broad shoulders and winning smile, his shining sincerity and his sense of humor, and most of all his privilege as a gifted earthbender. But such envy is useless and fleeting. Mako is so proud that Bolin is alive, that Bolin isn't like those other benders, that he is_ the one that brought him up_; knowing every day that Bo exists, is enough to let his own narrow frame, drawn face, and his non-bending self become scars he is proud to have.

He still tells lies, though. Bolin never knows he's joined the Equalist movement. It is around the time when the old man kicks them out of his shack (Mako hates Toza for it but cannot blame him, not when Mako's own involvement with the Triads is endangering everyone around him). Bolin the adorable earthbender gains a following of smitten female neighbors at age eleven, and they somehow arrange for them to live in the tower of the Arena. Mako will follow where Bo's enthusiasm leads, and the rent is offered at an affordable price, until the mobster running the place finds out Mako isn't even a bender. If he had ever raised his brother to be tough, maybe Bolin could have earth-bullied the guy into leaving Mako alone, but his good nature just trails out of his guileless green eyes and Mako cannot let anyone harm the well-meaning soul that is his brother. So he tells a perfect lie and Bolin, at eleven, has a roof over his head, and some kind of future to work towards, and damned if that isn't a load off his brother's shoulders. Mako settles into a well-adjusted street life of stealing, committing small crimes for the Triads and bringing food and money to Bo every day. Until the factory, the roadhouse, and a masked man who shows him the reverse side of the universe.

6.

Some days Bolin gets this wistful look on his face and his big eyes go distant and glazed.

The first time Korra sees it she asks what the matter is.

"Just missin' my bro is all," he says, suddenly radiance breaking through the clouds.

And she thinks, Bolin has a brother!

What's he like? She imagines a shorter version of Bolin, round with adolescence, well-fed. Cheerful because that's what Bolin is. Dopey and admiring of his big brother, spoiled by Bolin's more hopeful fangirls.

But then. What comes through the door is Mako.

"_You're_ Bolin's brother?"

"Sorry to disappoint." He barely takes her in.

A good hand taller than the earthbender, and whip-thin. Old grey coat and red scarf. He is holding something wrapped in paper.

"No, no! He told me about you. Good things, of course! I just expected-"

"Look, is he here?"

She isn't used to people interrupting her like that. "He's just upstairs-"

"Excuse me, then."

She bares her teeth at the back of him. When he comes back she tries again. "I didn't get to introduce myself. I'm Korra, Bolin's waterbender and the-"

"I know who you are, Avatar." He pushes past her, eyes set on the exit.

He might be the first one to stun her into silence.

The next few times he manages to avoid speaking to her at all. But for all it's worth she gets a couple of good long looks at him. Wan skin, cold yellow eyes, set jaw. She concludes: he's got a calculating facial expression, but no real arrogance. Like he sizes you up to judge how hard he'll have to fight back when you attack him.

Oh, and the more she sees him, the more she wants to attack.

7.

And in seeing her, dark, shapely, young, he feels in his bones for the first time the truth that there is a _person_, flesh and blood, who can bend all of the elements, who is the alleged manifest will of the world. Until now the Avatar had been a fossil enshrined on the South Pole. Faded ink lines on a dusty scroll to rail against.

The whole world shifts, just a fraction. An old fear curls around him, of not being in control of his life at all, of being subject to a theatre of harmful spirits.

"Of all benders, the Avatar is the most privileged. The pedestal upon which the Avatar is placed is the precursor to the worship that all other benders expect," said Amon.

But how bitter this life is. To throw her from her pedestal is to let Bolin fall too.

8.

It takes Tenzin the span of one dinner to come to terms with – or, well, capitulate to – her choice to join the Fire Ferrets permanently. She knew it would be fine. They had decided to make more of an effort trying to understand each other after she made the ancient heirloom in the courtyard explode last week. She has been training rigorously despite the lack of Air. He will let her pro-bend.

"And what happened to their last firebender? Why did he leave?" He runs boney fingers over his moustache and fiddles with his chopsticks as he contemplates the steamed vegetables and dumplings on the low table.

Korra makes a who-cares face, picking at her greens. Bolin never told. But the air kids are all watching her for her answer.

"He..." she decides, "-he ran away to marry an orangatang bat!" waggling her eyebrows at Meelo, who wastes no time in springing up to stagger overjoyed around the tatami floor, flapping and shrieking, "orananangatan bat! Mommy I'ma oranganangatang! Keeeee! Keeeee!"

Tenzin gazes dolefully. "Korra, If you don't know the answer, just say you don't know the- Meelo!" The orangatang bat is methodically pulling himself up the long stretch of his father's back using, most remarkably, only his toes and teeth.

Jinora and Ikki observe without comment how Tenzin tries to retain any level of peace with a demonic creature lodged in his shoulder. Blithely rubbing her pregnant belly, Pema munches.

"You've got this meditation inner peace thing down-pat," Korra commends her. "And you're not even an airbender!"

Pema slurps her homemade _oborodofu_. "Oh yes. I suppose you could call it inner peace, although on most days I'd be tempted to call it willful ignorance. Lucky thing inner peace isn't reserved for benders. _Some_ benders aren't even particularly good at it."

"I encourage you to remember that you're not the one currently being gnawed on by– at least his teeth appear to be remarkably sturdy." Tenzin tries to eat a spring roll and fails, but does so with great dignity. Meelo, from where he is dangling upside-down from his dad's neck swipes the roll gracefully and chows down. Korra watches in admiration as bits of fried batter catch in Tenzin's beard, wishing she could still get away with shit like this.

Suddenly the soft tofu reminds her of stewed sea prune -although the flavors could not differ more- and she misses the deft flick of Tonraq's knife, whittling the soft fruit from their rocks. The whole cabin would smell of seaweed and brine. Pema meets her eyes and Korra knows, it's alright.

"I think it's nice that Korra is participating in pro-bending. For us, it'll only ever be a spectator sport." Jinora says, wistful.

"Well!" pounces the Avatar. "Only 'cause the team with you on it would have an unfair advantage! There would need to be enough airbenders for every team.." Korra raises her eyebrows at Jinora and Ikki. "So the sooner you start making air babies the better, am I right?"

"Korra!" Tenzin the perpetually flummoxed airbender has turned bright red. "Don't.. my children don't listen to the radio after hours..! Don't talk to them about.."

"About what, daddy?" Jinora asks, beatific. Abruptly Meelo has stopped squawking, and Ikki is gearing up in the ringing silence for what's gotta be verbal gold, before Pema cuts in.

"Korra has a point, dear. If you had started sooner, there might have been two generations of airbenders running around already."

"If I had started sooner, who would you have married?" He asks his wife plainly.

"Why! The orangatang bat," Pema winks. Meelo airbends himself into his mom's open arms with a yodel, upsetting a bowl of Korra's memories and a plate of green things.

* * *

Notes:

By the knives of Mai - expression of surprise or dislike, mostly used by non-benders

tatami - woven straw mats used for indoor flooring in Japan. My take is that tatami is pretty much the most comfortable type of flooring in the world although heated Korean floors are a great blessing. Air nomads came from rough-hewn stone temple floors high in the mountains, and Water Tribe laid skins and woven rugs over permafrost earth. Earth kingdom would retain stone and earth floors where possible, of course. Tatami was perhaps developed by the fire nation, aware as they were of the irony of how ruinous even a fiery sneeze might be when sitting on a mat. It is well-suited to Republic City's flooring needs.

_oborodofu_ - very soft, nearly liquid tofu (Japanese) [author's note: it is very, very delicious]

orangatang bat - a creature I have distilled from two lovely mammals, keeping in tradition with the show's hybrid menagerie. I have great faith that young Meelo's performance, although brief, aptly relayed to you the character of this whimsical animal, and its predilection for fried foods... especially when in the possession of other people.


	4. Grant Me Not Greed but Sustenance

_Grant Me Not Greed but Sustenance_

* * *

1.

How hard the mighty do fall.

Nearly all the Triad members wanted by Amon have been methodically collected, and none managed to escape the Equalists' surprise attacks – or their prison.

Mako is proud of his brothers and sisters. The police, he ponders as he enters the roadhouse's makeshift jail, leading today's last prisoner inside, could never have restrained twenty firebenders. Only chi-blockers could manage something of this scale.

The cellar is full of captive Triad benders, most of them out cold. Koyuki re-blocked their main meridians just twenty minutes ago; the metal chains, courtesy of Future Industries, could hold even a metal bender. One or two powerless glares bore into Mako's back. The broad-shouldered man he is pushing along is Saburō no Ryū, from the Agni Kais- an old blister from Mako's smoky, mobster-infested past.

His Equalist mask stands like a wall between Mako's anonymity and Saburō's knowledge of his complicity. His prisoner shuffles forward and sways when Mako halts him. Saburō's useless hands are twitching against the metal clamps where they rest in the small of his back.

Amon questioned the firebender benignly enough, but when he refused to answer, the Lieutenant clouted him on the back of his head. Interrogation completed.

Mako presses on his shoulders to make him sit. The mobster seems not to register any of it, so Mako jostles his tied hands and pulls down until Saburō staggers to his knees. As the man settles back at last, Mako leans in to gag him – but the gag is on fire. Suddenly hot shocks of flame engulf him on both sides like a nightmare and he feels his mask and goggles start to burn. Tearing them off his head, Mako pitches away from the dragon's breath, nose full of the stench of burnt cloth and hair. Saburō grins, panting, ready for another roar. Beside him another captive becomes hysterical -that greasy fool Shady Shin's sleeve has caught fire. All the mobsters in the cellar are suddenly alert.

Saburō could have the whole roadhouse burning in minutes. Everyone in the room knows it.

Damned ash maker, Mako thinks. Evade. Distract. Impair.

He runs right at Saburō, who is taken by surprise and starts spitting fire again. When Mako slaps his face down hard the firebender begins to burn his own lap, and cuts off with a pained cry. Mako grabs the man's hair, holding his head to an angle. Strikes consecutively: the _kisha_ points at the base of his throat, _suitotsu_ in the centre of the larynx, and _dta-dta!_ with more force than strictly necessary, the _kankotsu_ point in the hollows behind his jaw. Saburō gags for a moment but can still breathe. Mako pats out the fire on Shin's sleeve in a hurry, and re-blocks his fire meridians too while he's at it.

Saburō is reeling and regaining breath, fire doused for now. But his yellow-as-crow's-feet eyes have zeroed in on Mako's exposed face. Mako stares back, careful not to show fear.

"Well, boy... how many years has it been? You grown up pretty, Makoto. Thought you woulda been reigned into bein' Bei Fong's bull by now, but I guess you dodged that bullet, huh."

Mako smiles politely.

Saburō's teeth bare. "Does li'l pro-bending Bo know you're Amon's hood? He must be real proud. Having an anti-bender brother must really help him sleep at n-"

Before Mako can punch the mobster's lights out, the firebender has been dealt a hefty blow, snapping his head to the right and leaving him gasping in pain. From the shadows materializes Amon. He turns his chalk-and-lacquer face to Mako, who realizes he has sunk into a low defensive crouch, and straightens. He can't help but swallow as he meets the dark hollows of Amon's gaze. But nothing happens. After a mute moment –the darkness rings like a prayer bowl with the benders' fear of the masked man– Amon departs the prison, soundless as an apparition.

Slowly Mako straightens and meets the eyes of all the captives in the room. Nearly all avert their gaze, and the ones who keep staring? Well, they've just issued an invitation to be chi-blocked left, right and center.

2.

As soon as Mako steps into the empty hall of the Arena later that day, he feels the press upon his shoulders. _Fraud – loser – traitor – outsider!_ Same old song, sung with new verve today. The dark water of the moat sloshes, many feet below, and he remembers the fear of drowning.

"Hey, Mako!"

Shrinking, he fights the urge to run, stiffens, and at last forces back his shoulders. The girl approaching him just reaches his chin. The fourfold bender, all wiry power and cocky grins.

She doesn't know what I am. She would hate me if she did.

"Bolin here?"

"Naw, he's out but he should be back soon. Anything important?"

He shakes his head, ready to turn and flee. She is trying to meet his eyes. When that fails she grabs his hand. The bag rustles. He freezes.

"Do I smell pork dumplings...?" Her voice is hopeful. "You know, it's only greens and tofu on the island.. Tenzin says eating meat will disrupt the compassion of my soul and the afterlife of my ancestors and all that jazz... but honestly, I can smell them, _right_ through the bag, they smell amazing–"

Mako realizes he is eyeing her. The Avatar is talking about food to him. What if one of the brothers or sisters sees me talking to the Avatar, as if we are of the same world? What is my excuse? But she is joking as if they are of the same world, as if this were always so. He might be staring slack-jawed, and grits his teeth in case.

She reads him and lets go. "Sorry! I didn't mean to sound like I was trying to steal your food."

"You _were_ trying to steal it. It's for Bolin though. Not for you."

She grins at him. "Aww come on! How about I pick us up some _ramyun_ next door in exchange for some of those dumplings? I'll get enough for Bolin too."

Of course she can afford the _ramyun_ shop in the most expensive neighborhood of the city, he thinks, suppressing venom. Of course she can. "You're rich," he offers, not a question.

She smiles at him. "Now people know my face, I barely have to carry money. Lots of people want to take care of the Avatar and her friends. It's a sweet deal."

He stares at her. "It isa sweet deal. Have you ever even worked a day in your life?"

"What?" She draws back. "I'm the Avatar."

"So you deserve to be treated like there are diamonds dripping from your fingers?"

"I– everything is my responsibility. _Everything_ that happens between people and, and nature, and the spirit world, is – I'm supposed to save the world when it needs saving."

"And how are you managing so far?"

She draws in on herself a little, her face a reflection of shock and hurt. He suddenly sees her friendship with Bolin, the warmth they must share. She opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it again. "I'm only seventeen, I only just got here..."

A friend of my brother. He will not risk the few hours a week of his brother's affection over antagonizing this overprivileged bender, and there is no point making her suspicious over his principles. Imagine risking the Revelation because he wants to gall the Avatar into reconsidering her reason for being.

"Avatar, forgive me." He sighs.

"Of course. I understand. It's fine! You're right! That's the shitty thing, huh?" She is backing away. "I'm going to do some more uh, training."

He grabs her forearm. It's warm, and thinner by far than his own arms. But the tendon in her wrist cords as she makes a fist. "Let go," she says gently, blue eyes skimming his face. She is confident she can defend herself. She is being gentle for his sake.

He swallows. "I was taking out my frustrations on you. It was unkind of me." He lets go of her arm in a calm motion.

Her eyes brighten just a tiny bit and she looks up at him for a moment longer. "You know, Bolin is a lot nicer than you are."

"I know," Mako agrees. He tacitly offers up the bag of potstickers, feeling like a big brother.

"...come on," she says, and leads him over to the good seats.

3.

_Traitor_, the Arena whispers.

_I stand by the choice I made_, he tells it.

4.

Korra likes to think everything in the world will be under her control at some point in time. One of the White Lotuses warned her that the berserker princess Azula of the Fire Nation had said basically the same thing, right before she banished the entire royal court for treason and then tried to murder her own brother the crown prince. Korra had joked in response that as long as there remained good food, no one ever need be killed or banished from _her_ kingdom.

But the control, it's not really there. She knows if the world was a ballroom full of dancers, she would in fact be a pup, hiding in a shoe. Peering out, watching feet whirl on the floor, in and out of sight and just countless; she might grow up to be the Polar bear dog that could herd them like sheep seals – or she might get trampled, when they realize this shoe isn't on a foot that is dancing to the music.

5.

She has left Bolin's big brother in the Arena, on a wooden bench halfway into the seats, with the instructions, "Wait here while I get noodles." She wonders if he'll be there when she gets back. How can he be so still and so restless at the same time? She doesn't understand him. And how can he be so cold, and yet make me feel so sympathetic?

On the surface, her course of action is simple. Disgruntled folks deserve to be treated respectfully by their Avatar. What's the point of having the power to achieve harmony if you don't listen to the complaints? So she will buy him noodles and talk to him about why he doesn't like the Avatar and what she can do to change that. And she is gonna smile for all she is worth at Mako.

Beneath the surface is something simpler than her Avatar policies. She doesn't have to look too close to know. Her _ramyun_ motives are about as pure and holy as the pork dumplings which will hopefully be awaiting her return.

The burnished metal cans of noodle soup are scalding hot and the trip back seems twice as long for it. "Come on, come on, how many more stairs–?" she jabbers, pretending it's firebending training as she rushes up the hall steps with the heat of the metal tiffin tins searing into her hands. She bursts into the Arena at last and for a moment the heat is too much, because he's gone, he didn't wait – until his long figure straightens from behind a row of seats, and he was lying down on the bench and now he's watching her with narrowed eyes as he munches on a dumpling, and she must just look a mess –

Calm down. I'm the girl bringing him salty seaweed _ramyun_ with a side of dragon claws. _I'd_ sure as hell fall in love with me.

She deposits the sealed tins and bamboo-leaf of dragon claws onto the bench between them, and waterbends the spilled moisture away so they can sit without soupy surprises. She catches him staying warily back from the soup as it flies away into the Arena's moat. He reaches for the soup tin nearest but grimaces when his fingers close on the lid. "This is– how did you carry these without the handle? They're burning hot!"

She was planning on being jolly about it, but his yellow eyes aren't impressed, they're exasperated. She feels her smile turn sheepish. "The shop was crazy busy and they had to get the handles from the back, and I didn't want to wait any longer, so."

"Couldn't you have iced the metal or something?"

"I'm a healer, I'll fix them later," she shrugs, hiding a wince as she prizes the lid off her ramyun and wedges open the bamboo wrap of dragon claws. Tenzin's bald skull would turn glossy red at the guilty pleasures she is indulging herself in.

Guilty of meat-eating, guilty of distraction by young men... she looks up and realises how close together they are seated.

Her own skin looks very dark beside his paleness, her palms narrow beside his long square hands. All people are almost exactly the same, be they Water tribe or Fire nation, their blood the exact same color under their different skins. But he is fundamentally different from her, every splinter of his being sung by a different spirit; his color, his culture – and it is unfair that she craves him while he is so dourly unimpressed by her. If she want to be treated as if she's nothing special she can go back to Air Temple Island, Korra reminds herself. Why am I punishing myself by pretending I have a chance with this unrewarding–

The tin lid lifts out of her hands and Mako puts it down on the bench, and takes her hands in his own. Her heart thuds like it might be romantic, but he is doing it with the pragmatic no-nonsense look of a healer... no, a big brother. He rotates her wrists, pressing his fingers on her sore skin. Her fingers do hurt now, when there's no food to distract her. You are not my big brother, she thinks, making a half-hearted move to pull her hands away. But all of a sudden her fingers feel cool, and she straightens her back in surprise. "What just happened?"

"Where?" He looks into the empty Arena as if maybe a Wolfbat played dirty again just now.

"I–" the pain is still there, but throbbing softly now that the burns are cooled.

"Heal it now while the blisters haven't formed yet," he is frowning at the leaky lid of his ramyun, "the soup is still too hot to touch, anyway."

He opens the bag of dumplings and helps himself to dragon claws as she bends a puddle of water all the way up out of the moat and into ten glowing piddles around her fingertips, with a splash on each palm. He has his eyes fixed on the food for the duration of it, dripping and glowing and sloshing, and she wishes he would let her show off.

_He doesn't like bending_, an insecurity murmurs. _Just like an Equalist_.

Ha! she thinks. An Equalist and the Avatar, sharing dumplings. An unlikely tale if ever there was one. Next thing you know we'll be building a labyrinth of tunnels, kissing in the dark, dying in a dramatic scene and having a city named after us– The thought is so unexpectedly sad she takes pause.

Mako is courting the fiery wrath of the noodles. His face relaxes as he eats, but when he catches her staring at him, all he says is "not bad," and takes another careful, slurping bite.

"You've been hungry before," she says without thinking.

"Many people in Republic City have been hungry," he responds without inflection.

"How can we fix that?" She asks him. "How can we improve the living conditions in the city?"

"Uh, 'we'?" says Mako.

She hardens. "Yeah, 'we'! If the world was for the Avatar to wreck and fix alone, why would there be any other people?!"

"'Cause you'd get lonely if you didn't have anyone to show off for."

"Mako, tell me straight out what you think." Her fingers are still sensitive as they try to break the unseparated chopsticks. The skin on her finger tips feels a little raw, like she's done too much firebending.

He swipes the sticks out of her hands and deftly snaps them apart. "Why do you think you're the only one trying to improve things in Republic City?"

She accepts the sticks from him and pops a chicken claw in her mouth so she doesn't have to reply yet, and then starts to reply anyway. "You mean–"

"_Please_ don't talk with your mouth full," he interrupts her.

She ignores him. "You mean the Equalists?"

He stills. "Is that what you think I meant?"

She shrugs and looks into her noodles. "But they're too hateful." The broth's surface is dotted with glimmering globes of grease. The soup has separated into semi-transparent layers of color and texture. She swirls it and watches the liquid grow opaque again.

"How do I bring people together when they hate each other so much?"

"Take away what separates them."

"Is that it?" This guy is breaking my heart, she thinks. "You're telling the Avatar to take away bending from the world?" She laughs unhappily. "Then what, you want me to crawl up a mountain and die?"

The lid clangs back on his ramyun as he sighs at her in exasperation. "Avatar Korra– even you have to admit that bending has created a great in–" he blinks, "– a rift, dividing people into strong and weak. It is _always_ the non-benders that pay the price. It is _always_ the benders that abuse the difference."

She listens, trying not to think that he said her name for the very first time in their month-long acquaintance. His intelligent eyes are on her, his chopsticks forgotten. For a moment she wishes everything were different.

"I'm not here to give non-benders a hard time," she says at last. "The power I have is to help people. All people."

"Do you feel like you really can?"

She looks up at him, remembering his harsh jibe from earlier. But now his face is simply curious. As his mouth opens to speak, a door creaks on the opposite side of the Arena, and Mako jerks up at the sound. She knows just like that their moment of confidence has ended. She twists around to see, just as Bolin calls her name into the empty hall. He is followed by a second figure.

"Aw, Bolin, not another fangirl," Mako says, his personality already withdrawing.

She snorts at him, relieved to change the subject. "That's what you thought when you first met me too, huh?"

Instead of replying he slurps up a mouth-full of noodles, and glares at his approaching brother.

6.

(In that unguarded moment, he almost said _inequality_. What questions might she have asked at such phrasing?)

Korra is smirking at him as he sourly chews his noodles. When he first met her all he saw was the question of her physical existence in the world. How could the universe produce such a division between privilege and suffering? He should hate her, like any good Equalist, for being the frontispiece of bending, born into the cradle of privilege. He should hate her more than any other bender.

But something about her disarms him, and... he can't finish the thought, and goes back to eyeballing Bo.

"Yeah, yeah, you're just a jealous big brother." Korra laughs at him, and maybe she's right on that count.

7.

As Bolin and his friend draw near, the Avatar jumps up, "Hey, Asami!" and hugs the girl with Bolin.

"Aw man, you guys didn't invite me?!" Bolin eyes the food -only half-finished, in fact- and the Avatar offers him the third tin of noodle soup with a radiant smile. "We had a ramyun party without you, guy! But I got you the one with piri-piri and garlic, here."

"Ooh!" Bolin dives right in, making delighted slurping noises. The girl with Bolin has wavy black hair and clear, glamorous features. Her driving leathers look expensive. She smiles at Mako and greets him with a light bow. "You must be Bolin's brother. I'm Asami Satō."

The blessing that is warm food in his belly turns into a swallowed stone. He knows that name. _Get out now_, chime all his instincts. He stands up, careful not to upset the basket of dumplings, and bows back. "Mako. It's a pleasure." But he can't get his face to smile at all, even a little. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work. Bo, there are still some potstickers left."

Avoiding the Avatar's blue eyes and his brother's belated "Bro, wait!" he escapes, heart hammering. Once outside the Arena he sticks to the shadowed alleyways.

He is a fool for thinking he could visit Bolin so soon after the Lieutenant warned him. Asami Satō, none less than the daughter of Hiroshi Satō, who is head of Future Industries... and great ally of the Equalists. If his daughter is engaged in the Movement, it means Amon has begun to act. Not only is it a mere matter of time before Satō's girl reports back that Mako _was sharing a meal with the Avatar_; not only is she a threat to Mako's reputation, but she has made friends with Bolin. Sure as the rainy season, when the first blows fall between the benders and the Equalists, Bo will be stumbling directly into the line of fire.

Going through his options, Mako climbs the sandstone stairs and boards the steam engine at the nearest station. No. He can bring this around to his advantage. Amon will have to believe Mako when he says his time spent with the Avatar was to search for flaws, feel for advantages... his nostrils flare. Winning her trust will pay off in the end.

If Satō's daughter is an Equalist, it means Amon is closing in on the Avatar from several directions. I just need to get Bolin out of the City, somewhere safe. That's all.

8.

The locomotive bears him through Republic City, sunlight flitting in through the high windows in a yellow staccato. Inside the car the shadows are dusky.

The other passengers never look at him, the gangly boy in poor man's clothes. That's fine. This moment of looking out at high stone buildings with azure-tiled roofs and colorful, painted adverts clinging to their sides, it's part of a transient world. The real world will manifest tomorrow, when a Revelation will be made. The first public event and a real blow to the Triads. And he plays a part in it all. He tries to repeat these good things to himself, but anxiety flares again.

I don't realistically have the money to get Bolin out. How will I convince him to leave Satō's girl and his arena, let alone get him out of the city – away from the Avatar and the city's benders?

As he remembers the Lieutenant's weighty voice suggesting Mako might be a traitor, the train swoops into a tunnel heading towards the outskirts. A few of the passengers exclaim when the swaying electrical lamps flicker. He closes his eyes, against both the light and the dark.

* * *

Chapter notes:

気舎 - _kisha_ is the set of points at two fingers' distance from the centre of the clavicle. Blocks throat meridians.

水突 - _suitotsu_ is the set of points that are directly beneath a man's adam's apple on both left and right sides. Blocks fire meridians.

完骨 - _kankotsu_ is the set of points located on both sides of the skull, at a finger's separation beneath the bone protrusion one can feel behind the ear. Discombobulates and blocks chi moving to and from the brain.

vegetarianism - in many Buddhist teachings, eating meat will lead to a loss of compassion for the world. Buddhists should avoid killing living things at all costs. Of course there are many, many places where people are Buddhists and also eat meat; note there is always a difference between the dimensions of culture, and religion. Depending on the region, vegetarianism might be enforced, left to the individual, or altogether ignored.

tiffin - metal, two or three-tiered lunch box used in India. Forgive me, reader: I fear the inclusion of the tiffin lunch tins may have felt contrived, perhaps, to suit the plot – but I so greatly appreciate tiffin lunch culture that I wanted them to be a part of the story. They actually have removable handles so you never have to burn yourself carrying them...

_ramyun_ - the Korean word for ramen; the ubiquitous noodles-and-soup that have won hearts and filled bellies the world over. Particularly popular in its instant form.

Potsticker - 餃子 _jiaozi_ (Ch) or _gyouza_ (Jp); a vegetable or meat-filled dumpling. Often served with _ramen_ in Japan.

Dragon claws - at my local yamcha watering hole, dragon claws are the most excellent chicken feet. Not to be confused with chicken drumsticks.

**I propose a toast to you, the excellent folks who left your kind opinions for me. Thank you very, very much! If not for you I would not be so very excited to share my blithering on the internet. In case anyone wants to just leave me kudos rather than write anything, this is all being cross-posted to AO3, nudge nudge, ;) ;)**


	5. For I Sacrifice to the Truth

1.

Hundreds upon hundreds of printed pamphlets, still smelling of fresh ink, depict Amon looking forward into the bright rays of the future. On paper his mask transports itself from stiff plaster into bright bravery, allows Amon to truly become a vengeful spirit, burning with righteous passion.

This pamphlet is the youngest in the series of prints designed to promote knowledge among non-benders of their discrimination, and to activate them when the time to take up arms will be at hand. Disseminating them in the City's public spaces and among shops in the slums has already greatly raised the number of citizens learning the self-defensive moves of chi-blocking. At the table in the centre of the common room, discussing the latest pamphlet design, are the Lieutenant, and a man known widely as the Sponsor, who has brought the Movement the technology and resources to mass-print their pamphlets at great speed: Hiroshi Satō. Father of Asami Satō.

When Mako entered the room earlier, the older man acknowledged him with the grunt typical of his seniority in the Equalist ranks. Now Mako waits, standing steady in a corner, for the Lieutenant to finish up and give him further instructions. Inside Mako there is a hum of worry present, louder than usual, that somehow they will know what he is doing– that he is protecting his brother against better judgment– and that the Movement will then cast him out as a traitor. It is thus with an expressionless face that he waits and watches, while considering and reconsidering Satō's facial expressions. And wondering: what would they do to a traitor? Would he be fired from work, banished from the roadhouse? Would they cut off a finger or two, like the Triads? would they beat him to death and disappear his body? Or would they merely observe him and establish that truly, he formed no threat?

But for now, Mako can discern no flicker of suspicion in Satō's eyes, no turn of doubt to his voice or the Lieutenant's. So Mako will hope for the best. Satō may have hid well his sympathies from his daughter; and if Satō's daughter is innocent, she isn't a liability. Which means Bolin is safe too, for the time being.

"Mako." The Lieutenant and Satō seem to have reached an agreement on the design, and the latter exits with only a laconic wave.

Now the Lieutenant approaches him. "Koyuki and Byeol will collect the last benders according to your information; and that will be the lot of them."

Mako nods to this.

"All of your intel has proved accurate, and we've managed to keep all the captured benders locked down and secure for over twenty-four hours."

Mako nods again, feeling proud.

The Lieutenant eyes him, nonetheless, with a focus that takes Mako by surprise. "When all is past, tomorrow night, Amon will have undone the bending of the forty most hated Triads in the City, Mako. Forty criminal benders less to do damage in this heart of darkness."

"The spirits are with us," Mako voices, and means it, ignoring the nervous twitch in his chest.

The Lieutenant pauses and then claps him on the shoulder, "You can take your factory shift as planned and have the evening to yourself. You have done very well. This would not have been possible without you."

"Thank you, sir."

Tomorrow the non-benders of the city will be given a great gift. The city's cruelest will be punished at last for their crimes; something the bending police have repeatedly failed to achieve, ever since the death of Bei Fong the Elder. The men of the roadhouse carry this Revelation in their hearts already, and it lifts their step even in the dark wooden halls.

The Revelation will be a marker, too, by the road of Mako's life. Three years of being free from the Triad gangsters. Three years of enough food and money to pay for himself and support Bolin. Three years of working towards a golden, harmonious future. Tomorrow night will swivel the very axis of the world.

And someday soon, Bolin, you might understand what it's all been for.

2.

Mako thinks his heart might stop when he sees the Avatar wandering around the factory where he works. Today, on the day before the Revelation, anti-bending sentiments are so high... If anyone recognizes her, if the ivory pelt of her polar bear dog so much as glints in this sun, the girl risks being murdered where she stands.

On the west side of the factory is the lot where the Satomobile parts are stored in hand-numbered wooden crates stacked stories-high. She seems to be wandering aimlessly, weaving in and out of the scaffolding... searching? Stopping to hover right by a crate full of freshly made Equalist masks, and another with electric glove prototypes, both mercifully nailed shut. Mako finds himself staring at her and then realizes more people around him have turned to look up from their work. _They are watching the Avatar but they don't know it_; and he hurriedly ducks, trying to blend into the group of workers.

Of course that's when she spots him and shouts his name. He cannot hide his wince.

His factory mates laugh, convinced she is no one special. "Hey, you impregnated your girlfriend, Mako, now you gotta marry her!" "She's come all this way to see you and you're hiding?!" "Don't think you're getting out from under this shift!"

He surrenders, letting his equipment slide to the stamped earth ground, and straightens as her footsteps come closer. Then he takes a breath and walks out to meet her.

"Mako! Hey!" Says the Avatar, sporting a wide fake smile and worried eyes. "Sorry to bother you at work.."

He herds her to one side, fearful that the others should recognize her. "What is it?"

She laughs. "Nice to see you too. Um, you happen to know where Bolin is?"

He blinks. "What do you mean? When is the last time you saw him?"

"Yesterday, after we had noodles... He was supposed to come in for training this morning. I mean, I don't want to worry, but we have a big match this week and if we want to make it to the finals I think we need to step it up today... Hasook had said Bolin was taking a temporary job on the side, but Asami didn't know about anything, and I thought maybe you had him here."

"Bo never said anything about a job." Mako wants to believe that it's just some job serving noodles in a restaurant somewhere. He really wants to believe Bolin knows better by now. But– "How do you even know where I work?"

She rolls her eyes. "Bolin told me, of course. I took the steam-locomotive up here, like a real citizen of Republic City."

"Oh yeah? Did you sweet-talk yourself on board, or just climb onto the roof and wait for departure?"

She smirks at him, all sarcasm, obviously remembering their previous conversation. Good, he thinks. He left at least some kind of impression on her –although, whatever point he might try to make, he supposes he will always be overshadowed by worshipful benders. "I had to borrow money off Tenzin for the ticket... which meant I had to _lie_ to him."

"What, you can't earn money honestly?"

"Doing what? I can't cook or clean, and any Ava-"

"_Okay, yes_, fine, whatever-" He talks over her hurriedly.

She gives him a look. "... But I paid for my ticket, you hear? And for the trip back. Hasook and I need to do some training even if Bolin doesn't show up, so..." And she inclines her head, a brusque dismissal, on anyone else. On her, an unexpected shyness.

He takes a deep breath. "My shift is over in about three-quarters of an hour. I'll find him afterward."

The Avatar asks soberly, "so you think there's something fishy about his job thing too?"

Oh no, you don't. Last thing I need is a super-bender drawing attention to Bo, stomping around the city, wailing his name. Squaring his shoulders at her, Mako says, "I go looking for him tonight. You stay out of the way."

Slowly the Avatar steps away from him. All she heard was the challenge. "The way I see it, I got three-quarters of an hour's head start." She walks away, straight-backed, arms blanched-honey in the harsh sunlight, and he knows he will be worthless for the rest of his shift.

3.

Skootchy's face is so dirty Mako can't help but get out his handkerchief first thing, with a great sigh. "You're supposed to put food _into_ your mouth, not arrange it in a decorative pattern on the general area of your face," he comments. Skoochy mimics a mother hen silently, pulling a horrible, twisted face, but he doesn't move away.

They are at the homeless kids' hideout, on the left shore under the Boscoe Bridge. Mako headed over right after work, without telling Byeol. The rest of the children have been successfully distracted by freshly steamed bread, courtesy of big brother Mako, and remain near the shelter of their raggedy makeshift tent-homes. Talking to just Skootchy should provide Mako with more than enough guesses as to Bolin's whereabouts.

Skootch's grubby little claws climb up and into the grey coat's pockets.

Sighing, Mako instructs, "Try again. I felt it this time."

The street rat narrows his eyes and tries again. Mako raises his eyebrows expectantly, and picks at what appears to be a clump of rice that has melded with the boy's hair. Then suddenly Skootch has a steamed bunin one hand and Mako's billfold in another. Mako suppresses a smile and snatches the billfold back from the boy. Skootchy's growl is admirable, despite the great bite of dough already filling his gullet.

"First you tell me where Bolin got his new job, _then_ you get a reward."

4.

The quietest nightmare goes like this: three chairs and a table lie knocked over in the middle of an opium-heavy room. The teak door creaks on its hinges in the wind. The wood glints where it has been sliced into a 平.

5.

This isn't really happening, is the first thing Mako thinks when he steps into the putrid cellar-turned-prison of the roadhouse and sees Bolin's unconscious form lain shackled on the dirt floor. His first instinct is to reach his brother and get him out, and he is halfway across the room before his brain kicks in. There are two of his brethren right behind him.

Help Bo now and Amon will find out, and call it betrayal. Whether they punish me or not, Bolin will become the sacrificial scapegoat.

He sucks in a breath, reels back and punches Saburō, hard, in the jaw. The prisoner spits out blood and a stream of curses. Shaking his wrist at the shock of pain in his knuckles, Mako walks out, and shares a wry smile with the two others on their round of re-blocking chi. He gets out before he can watch them disrupt the meridians of his little brother's energy.

Panic will get me nowhere. Panic will get me nowhere. Panic will get me nowhere.

It is some while before he can see the empty common room around him, and even longer before he can think this: _a small blessing in the face of a great misery_. No one to know he has seen Bo in there. Hopefully, only Amon and his Lieutenant know who the young earthbender is. Mako has to take that chance. But even if they are the only people who know; they are also the most dangerous people. They put Mako's brother here for a reason.

Bolin, forgive me. I cannot bring you water, I cannot tend to your wounds, I cannot get you out yet. Not if I want to save your life later –not to mention my own. Mako trods up the stairs and collapses onto his mattress. Feign ignorance. Feign indifference. He feels tired and a little forsaken. Breath comes cold and heavy. The pallet stinks of mold. The details of Bo's swollen eye, a trail of dried blood on his face, surface in his mind's eye. The Avatar's worried blue eyes.

Sometimes he fears it is wrong to ask spirits for individual help, but he repeats his mother's daily prayer to the Lady, the prayer that he repeats often. _Help me be strong. Help me be good. Only that._

Amon, the Blessed One, the spirits' gift to the forsaken of the world; shouldn't I follow his truth? Is not this the best way for me to protect the weak around me? Is not this the best way for me to improve the world?

He clamps shut his eyes and keeps from making any sound. Slowly, slowly, he accepts what has happened. My life is built around a spinning paradox. The Equalists mean everything to me because they stand for what I stand for. They can help me be strong and improve the world. Bolin means everything to me because he is my history and my humanity and my life.

How can I choose one over the other?

Air swirls and expands in his two lungs. Bolin has never consciously betrayed me. Bolin needs me, even though he is a bender.

His midriff shifts like a counterweight to expel breath now, and the chill in the room recedes. Sunlight, pressing like two warm hands on his chest, illuminates everything in painful detail.

If I must betray the Movement, let it be but a small betrayal, he prays to the Lady, and veers up.

6.

He finds her at Air Temple Island. Voices lead him around the side of the compound. For a moment he sees only a great contraption of spinning panels, fast and eerily silent as Amon himself. There are two small children dressed in air nomads' clothes, intently watching the thing. And then flits of blue break up the uniform dark of the panels; someone is moving inside that thing; who–

The figure flows closer, twisting and winding untouched like a dancing spirit. Of course, it is the Avatar herself.

"Pretty cool, huh," says a sudden air child at his elbow.

It takes all his training not to leap away. He ignores her. A second air child is scrutinizing him. He gives her an especially glassy stare in return.

"Are you the guy that Korra likes?" asks Child One. "Do you like her back?"

Mako blinks, thinking of his brother's radiant smile. "I'm not the guy she likes," he informs them, letting his eyes move back to the Avatar, where she is ghost-dancing through the promise of a clobbering, as if it just isn't there. He has never seen anything like it.

"Is it motorized?" He suddenly asks Child Two because she seems older. "I don't hear an engine or see any exhausts anywhere."

She smiles and is promptly interrupted by Air Child One. "Of course the gates aren't motorized! They're _two thousand years old_. Nobody used motors two thousand years ago, don't you even know that? And why would we need motors when-"

Child Two steps toward the panels with a graceful turn of foot. Her hands write cartwheeling designs into the air, until they _push_ – and a blast of wind greets the panels, spinning them faster. He can hear the Avatar laugh as she adjusts her dance to the new speed.

"-when we're _airbenders_," Child One finishes, making faces at him. Then she proceeds to ask him who he is, how old he is, what does he want, does he know how many trees are on the island, to wit, ten thousand five hundred and fifty-two and yes she has counted them all herself, why? Doesn't he believe her?

To make someone stop talking, just poke the _tentotsu_ point under the larynx, he ponders, watching the Avatar's delicate movements. If they're really persistent, get the _kisha_ points over the collarbones to shut them up.

The child is still making horrible faces at him. To relax facial muscles, he fantasizes as he stares back at the little monster, bop the _hyakue_ point at the crown of the head.

Nearly the same points he used on the mobster. It feels like a memory from a different life. From the corner of his eye, the Avatar descends at last from the spinning gates, the sun setting low and long as flames.

7.

Korra is surprised. For Mako to come find her at Air Temple Island... she would give the thought time to curl pleasantly in her mind, but for the look on his face.

"I couldn't find him," she walks over to Bolin's brother, voice caught between apologetic and defensive. "I ran out of places to look."

"I know where he is," Mako says, yellow eyes glinting in the low light. "I'm going to need your help."

Notes: 天突 tentotsu - central point where the clavicle and the larynx join.  
気舎 kisha - a set of points also used by Mako to keep Saburō no Ryū from performing the dragon's breath.  
百会 hyakue - central point at the top of the head. Affects every function when struck.


End file.
